From the Editor
Richard Whittaker Each piece here stands in a circle of its own riches. Each piece speaks in some way to the question posed. The question is the most elusive, and yet the most fundamental one. Putting it forward as such is far too ambitious insofar as some answer might be expected. On the other hand, each story carries the ring of truth - conveys this mystery of life, of being alive and looking for something that one senses we're called to understand somehow - a reason, a meaning, a role to play.
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One late afternoon, as we pulled into TJ's, mom, who'd been battling cancer for two long years, turned to me and said, "You go inside. I'm so tired." "Can I bring you back anything?" I asked. What happened next is hard to explain...
Among poet Bill Yake's critter familiars, owls had a central place in his heart and poetry. He sometimes assumed the alias Spedis Owl, a name associated with a petroglyph motif found along the Columbia River." Looking back, James Manteith recalls a formative life adventure.
"I'm a Theosophist," she told me. Later she alluded to a time living in Paris and attending the Sorbonne. There were studies in San Francisco and life in the Egyptian Consulate there. She'd made life masks - hundreds of them. "Artists see things differently," she said. I'd never met anyone like her.
"I studied dance with Martha Graham. She taught me a lesson. In one of her classes, she said, "Stand up straight." When I tried, she said, "No. That's not right. But if you're going to make a mistake, make it a big one so you know what it is." At 89 artist Mary King was reflecting on her life - and still making art.
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